Beer Bad
by ringanybells
Summary: A story about alcohol in honor of St. Patrick's Day. Mary goes to the bar to drown her problems. Marshall joins her and things will never be the same. Be warned, Marshall's slightly ooc.


Mary Shannon was drunk, which was strange, because she rarely let herself go this far. When you came from a history of alcoholics, when your continued existence was despite of alcohol and the effect it had on the people meant to be taking care of you, you learned to respect the bottle. Of course, even the strongest slipped occasionally. Her drawing nuptials, her mother's bubbly enthusiasm, and Raph's constant questions were all grating on her nerves quite heavily. Which was why she found herself alone in a bar on a Friday night. She'd picked one of the seedier places she knew, hoping to avoid the local college kids and weekend bar hoppers. She'd spent most of the night being checked out by the handful of regulars that the Alibi Room claimed, all of whom were familiar enough with her to know not to approach.

Marshall's call had come in over an hour ago. He'd had a question about a topic they'd been discussing at lunch. She'd answered the phone tersely, wanting nothing more than to be left to her thoughts, but knowing that to ignore him would do no good. He, of course, had caught on to her special mood, and being a slave to his own curiosity, had begun asking questions. Too exhausted from the long dinner with her mother discussing menu choices for the wedding, still months off, she simply answered. Marshall must have sensed her desire to be off the phone, because he let her go. Of course, less than half an hour later, he'd walked through the door, taken the stool next to her, and ordered his first round in an effort to catch up to her.

Unfortunately, Marshall was not a drinker like she was. He had an occasional beer with dinner, maybe two if they were hanging out at her place. And she was drinking the hard stuff, whiskey, straight. It wasn't long before he was just as drunk as she was, maybe further along. And with the alcohol, again came the questions.

"Why are we here, Mare" He kept his eyes on his drink, knowing even in his haze that eye contact was to be avoided.

She rolled her eyes, and ordered another. "I'm here to get drunk. I have no idea why you're here." She didn't mind his company, per se. But she'd spent the last few days defending herself to Jinx, Brandi, Raph. Tonight, she didn't want to have to do that, especially not to Marshall.

Marshall turned to face her now, hearing a sense of defeat in her voice that he did not like. "Let's get you home." He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, as though he intended to make her leave should she refuse.

Mary did not fear Marshall, he would never hurt her, physically at least, while drunk. But she didn't like being told what to do. She shook his hand off. "Leave it, Marshall, I'm not ready to go."

Before Marshall could reply, the bartender stepped up, placing Mary's ordered shot in front of her. "This guy bothering you, Miss Mary?"

Mary let a small chuckle out. For all that this place was a dive, Chris the bartender was always exceptionally nice to her. She shook her head, letting him know all was good. "I'm fine, Chris, Marshall's only trying to be a friend. Thanks for the concern though." Chris nodded and walked away, sending one last glance to the couple at the far end of the bar before returning to his conversation with his other regulars. "Marshall, I really am fine. Let me call you a cab and I'll see you on Monday."

But her partner shook his head, "Not likely. You're in no condition to be left alone. Just tell me what's on your mind. Maybe I can help." He kept his gaze on her, intent on getting to the root of her problems.

Knowing it was a bad decision, but needing to talk to someone, Mary began. "As much as I love my father, a part of me has always hated him for running. For leaving me to take care of Brandi and comfort Jinx and try to hold our family together. I know it seems like I couldn't care less for my family, the way I treat them, the way I avoid their calls. It's not because I don't love them, it's because I had to build these walls to protect myself from the pain. Despite everything they've put me through; I've never considered leaving them, not for good anyway. I've always believed that despite what a coward I really am, I would never do that. I promised myself that I would never run. And yet, for weeks now, it's the only thing I can think of."

Marshall was floored by her brutal honesty. "Mare, you're not a coward. You're the strongest woman I know, the strongest person. Wanting to run isn't a sin, you can't be punished for your thoughts." He let his words of reassurance sink in for a moment. Then, "Why all of a sudden do you want to leave so badly?"

Mary closed her eyes. If Marshall didn't know better, he'd say it was to hide tears. "It's too much, Marshall. I never should have let it go this far. I was right in saying no the first time he proposed. Raph is a great guy. Yea, I know we've had our problems, but no relationship is perfect. He's put up with stuff that would make most other guys run screaming for the hills. He's sweet, and strong, and all he ever wants to do is help me, take some of the responsibility off my shoulders. But I'm not wired that way. I can't let him. I've spent my entire life being reliant on no one, and that's not something I can just turn off. Raph deserves a woman who can let him in, the way I can't. And now, it's too late to do anything about it because I told him the truth."

Shaking his head, Marshall leaned closer to Mary. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, feel the heat from his body. "You're talking crazy, Mare. It's never too late. And you are not as closed off as you think. You may not want to admit it, but you've let me in. You're not alone, Mary, I'm here, right here with you no matter what." He ran his hand gently down her arm, a caress she couldn't mistake.

His words reached her as through a veil. Marshall was a constant in her life, the kind of thing she couldn't risk. Of course, in the early years of their partnership, she'd considered trying something with him, but as their relationship grew, she'd become too fearful that he too would leave. She knew how much she cared for him. It had just never occurred to her that he might return those feelings. But looking into his eyes right now, she saw how wrong she'd been. And it puzzled her. If Raph was a good man, than Marshall was the best. He was kind and considerate, strong and dependable, smart and the only person she'd ever let herself rely on. He definitely deserved more that she could offer. "Don't, Marshall. Don't go there. Do not do this to me, to us. I love you, and I will not let my particular brand of insanity infect your life anymore than it already has."

She moved to shove off from the bar, but he caught her with an iron grip. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw Chris stiffen, ready to intervene should it be necessary. Mary steeled her resolve and faced her partner. "Let me go, Marshall."

He stood with her, coming closer, "No, not until you hear me out. I won't stand here and listen to you tell me what I do and don't deserve. I'm fully capable of deciding that for myself." His grip on her arm was painful, she bit back a cringe from the squeeze, determined to hold her ground. "You don't belong with Raphael. He's not the right man for you. He doesn't get you, doesn't know you like I do. You belong with me, Mary, and you know it. You need someone who can read your mind, who knows what you're thinking before you do. You need someone who knows when to let you be, knows when to hold you. You need someone who is willing to promise you forever, and be completely dedicated to making sure that happens."

The tears that Mary had been trying to hold in slipped silently down her face. She wasn't entirely sure if they were from the pain in her heart or the pain from Marshall's hold on her. She'd spent a long time trying to ignore her feelings for Marshall because she refused to jeopardize them, and here he was practically begging her to take him. She shook her head, in denial of the offer and to hide her tears. "I won't do this with you, Marshall. You're drunk, you probably don't even know what you're asking for. In the morning, you'd regret this."

"We both know that's a lie. You're just afraid." Though the words were said in the same tone as his promises of dedication, Mary felt them like a slap. "You know you want me too, but you're afraid of it. You are a coward, Mare, but it's not the running that's your problem. It's finally having a reason to stay." And with that he pulled her close and crushed his lips to hers. He knew he'd gone too far the moment she pushed him away. Mary's eyes cleared and the arm he wasn't holding flew. No doubt it would have been worse had she used her dominant hand, but the smack stung none the less.

"Don't presume to think you have me all figured out. I may love you but that does not give you the right to make decisions for me. I will not do this with you tonight." She tried to pull her arm free, but Marshall knew better than to let her run. He grabbed her other arm as well, to prevent another swing.

"You don't get to run away from me, Mare. I know you too well. I let you walk out that door, and I never see you again? Not going to happen. I'm not one of your pathetic lays, hoping only to get a piece of ass and happy when you forget to leave your number. I'm your partner, I'm not going away that easily." He squeezed her arms a little tighter, hoping to convey exactly how serious he was.

But Mary didn't need the convincing. She could read in her partner's eyes how much this conversation meant to him. And she also realized that it didn't scare her. Despite the hold he currently had on her, she knew Marshall would take a bullet for her and would never hurt her intentionally. And he had stayed this long, loyal to her, dedicated to her. Almost a decade, and he had been there through all her drama and pain. Maybe she had already infected him, and the only decent thing left to do would be to not let go. Thoughts raced through her head, but she knew there would be no decision made tonight. For starters, this conversation would have to be rehashed when they were both sober. And there were a few other things that needed to be done before she was willing to consider a life with Marshall.

She tried again to get free of his grip. But apparently, drunk Marshall was strong Marshall. She was a decent match for him in the training ring, when he was sober and actively trying not to cause her pain, despite her request that he not take it easy on her. And had she been sober, she would have no trouble getting him off. But she was drunk too, and not steady enough on her feet to get the footing she needed to shake him off. The intensity of his grip was a little shocking to her, and it was more painful then she cared to admit. Knowing that it would just be a single thing on a long list that Marshall was angry with her for in the morning, Mary turned her head to meet Chris' gaze. With a reluctant breath, she called to him, "I think I could use that help now."

Seeing not only Chris, but Steve and David, two of the regulars she was 'bar' friends with, move to her aide, she briefly reconsidered. But she could feel Marshall's grip bruising and he was not responding to her. Chris remained behind the bar, reaching the pair first. He reached out and put a hand on Marshall's arm, just below his elbow. "Listen, buddy, I think maybe you should take your hands off of the lady."

Mary saw the change in Marshall's eyes, from pleading to predator. "I think maybe you shouldn't tell me what to do." Marshall gave a shake of his arm, without removing his hands from Mary. Chris's hand left his arm, but Mary was stuck in his grasp. She was jostled, losing her balance as she hit the barstool behind her. Marshall's grip alone kept her from collapsing. It only took her a moment to regain her balance, but as soon as she did, she realized that Steve and David had moved up on either side of Marshall.

Had they come at Marshall alone, he would have been able to fight them off. Steve was big, a former cop who had left the service after losing his partner. David was built like a linebacker, mainly because that's what he was, or had been, before a knee injury had killed his rising career. Following the injury, he'd spent years loading trucks, which really built upper arm strength. They'd taken a shine to Mary years ago, when she'd first shown up here. Now, every couple of weeks, when she felt the need to have a drink away from her normal haunts, she came here to these guys. Guys who knew pain, and thus, all about the need to drink alone. And when the quiet got to be too much, they were able to take her mind off of whatever was troubling it by distracting her with stories of their glory days.

Steve, knowing Mary was a fellow LEO, took special offense to what he perceived as Marshall's harassment. He pulled Marshall's left hand away from Mary and was met with a shaky right hook. Mary stumbled away, suddenly free of Marshall's support. David moved up beside Mary, keeping her from falling. She allowed him to support her for a moment as she felt the blood return to her now tingling fingers. Then she offered her thanks to the man beside her. Her gratitude went unheard, as the sound of a barstool being thrown overpowered it. Both she and David looked to the commotion brewing between her partner and Steve.

Marshall had thrown his previously occupied stool at Steve, to slow his advance. The stool had taken the former cop down, but only for a moment. He moved forward again, and this time, David moved with him. Fearing for her partner, Mary spoke up. "Go easy on him, guys, he's just had a little too much. He's not trying to hurt me." Steve threw a quick glance over his shoulder, saw the plea in her eyes, and curbed his anger. He and David stepped apart, to divide Marshall's attention. When Marshall followed Steve, the previous threat, David stepped forward, tapped Marshall on the shoulder, and threw his punch. Marshall went down.

Mary cringed as the punch landed. She had not wanted this when she'd set out for a drink tonight. On slightly unsteady feet, she moved to her partner's side. Kneeling beside him, she checked for a pulse. Finding it strong and steady, she let out a sigh and looked up toward her white knights. Steve extended a hand to help her stand back up. As she gained her feet, she met Steve's gaze. "Thank you for not killing him. Think you could do me one more favor for me?"

Steve looked from Mary's crestfallen face to the crumbled body on the floor. "It's no problem, Mary. I'll pull my car around. Have David help you get him to the door."

"Thank you." Before she could even ask David, he knelt down to pick Marshall up. Mary turned to Chris, "I am so sorry, Chris. He's never been like that before, I have no idea what possessed him tonight. You know I'm good for whatever damages there were."

Even as she finished the sentence, Chris began to shake his head. "Don't worry about it. Are you sure you're alright?"

Mary nodded. "I'm fine," Then, feeling the need to defend her partner, "Sober, Marshall would take a bullet for me. If he remembers any of this in the morning, it'll torture him till the day he dies."

Chris nodded, his eyes slightly darker than usual, "It probably should. Man ever lets himself hurt a lady; he should lose sleep over it for a good long while. That way he remembers never to do it again."

Mary didn't know what to say to that. She simply nodded and moved toward the door. When she stepped outside, Marshall was already loaded into the back of Steve's SUV. Thanking David again, she climbed into the passenger seat. She guided Steve toward Marshall's house, the drive made in silence otherwise. She used her key to open the door and Steve helped her get Marshall into his room. She sent Steve back out, promising to follow in a few minutes. She pulled Marshall's boots off, threw a blanket over him, and grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the bathroom cabinet. She then went and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge, placing it on the bedside table with the aspirin. She knew she should leave him a note, but was at a loss at what to say. Instead, she just left, not wanting to take too much advantage of Steve's generosity.

The drive from Marshall's to Mary's was not as silent. Steve wanted to know the story, who the man he'd helped knock out was, and why it had gotten to that point in the first place. Mary debated answering for a moment before she gave in. "He's my partner and, for the record, he's a great one. He's just not a big drinker. I must have pushed him too far, you know how my mouth likes to run away with me sometimes. He's never so much as raised a hand to me before. He was only trying to make a point."

They pulled into Mary's driveway. Before she could climb out of the car though, Steve put a light hand on her forearm. "I know you're trying to blame yourself for all this, but stop. Yea, he was drunk, and yea I know you've got quite a mouth on you, but from what I saw, you didn't do anything that warranted his hurting you."

Mary looked at him incredulously. "I hit him first, Steve."

Steve shook his head, "No, he had his hands on you long before you swung. And you didn't hit him till after he kissed you. From what I've seen, that smack was a perfectly acceptable response. And from what I've seen you do in a bar fight before, I know you could have lain him out with a single swing if you'd wanted to." He waited for her to acknowledge his words, and at her nod, he continued, "He was out of line and you were well within your rights. And, in the morning, you two will be fine."

Once again, tears were in her eyes. She really hoped Steve was right. "What if it was my fault, what if he thought I wanted him to kiss me? What if I just ruined the most important relationship in my life?"

"Unless you asked him to do it, then it's not your fault. And I've heard you talk about your partner a hundred times before tonight. The way you tell it, that man would move mountains to protect you. That kind of loyalty, it's not in danger cause of one bad night. You two will be fine." He patted her arm, before removing his hand.

Nodding, Mary thanked Steve one more time. She then climbed out of the car and made her way to the front door. She didn't want to think about what had just happened, or what tomorrow would bring. Hoping to find oblivion, she kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her half occupied bed, wishing she were alone.

…..

When Monday rolled around, Mary was still exhausted. The rest of her weekend had not been restful in the least. And she knew that she still had quite a conversation left before her. She took a long shower, wanting to savor those few minutes of peace. Stan had given her the okay to come in a few hours late, following the clusterfuck she'd had to handle yesterday. And as she'd insisted handling it alone, Marshall would already be in the office when she showed. The drive over to the Sunshine Building was spent wondering what awaited her once she arrived.

The elevator arrived at the top floor and she took a deep breath before exiting. She rolled her shoulders trying to relieve some of the tension that had been present since Friday night and let her game face slide into place. With purpose, she stepped off the elevator and swiped her card through the security gate. She kept her eyes down as she passed her partner's desk, but could feel Marshall's eyes on her. She placed her bag on her desk and moved toward the coffee pot, her partner's eyes following her as she moved.

She stayed in the kitchenette as the coffee began to percolate. Despite the silent wishes she was sending his way, hoping he'd stay at his desk, Marshall decided to join her in the kitchenette. "So, it's not just me, you don't care about the job either?"

His words stung, but Mary did not rise to the bait. "Can we please not do this here, Marshall?"

She saw the anger rise in his face, "You leave me at the bar, at the mercy of your two thugs, I don't hear from you all weekend, and that's all I get? A 'not here' Marshall? It's not good enough." His voice was low, trying to keep the conversation semi-private.

His words ended Mary's attempt to put this off. "I'm sorry, left you? What exactly do you remember from Friday night, Marshall?"

Momentarily, confused, Marshall held onto his anger. "I remember you calling me on Friday, I remember joining you at the bar. I remember having a conversation, and then I remember you sicking two meatheads on me and walking away. Were you even worried about how far they'd take your request?"

It took all of Mary's considerable restraint not to vent her anger right there in the middle of the office. Instead, she put her mug down and motioned toward the door leading to the balcony. "If you insist on having this conversation now, then we're doing it out there." She stalked off before Marshall could argue with her.

He followed her out to the balcony, letting the door slam behind him. "So, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Mary let out an angry chuckle. "'What do I have to say for myself'? You're not my mother, Marshall, I don't answer to you. And I have nothing to say for myself. Maybe you should play back what memories you do have of Friday night. Because things didn't happen the way you seem to think they did. For starters, you called me. And I never asked you to join me at that bar, I was perfectly happy sitting there alone." Mary turned to open the door and return to her desk, but Marshall's arm shot out and stopped her. Unfortunately, his hand landed in the same area he'd been gripping Friday night, an area that was currently a beautiful mix of black and blue. His hand, though nowhere near as tight as it had been a few days ago, brought a gasp of pain forth.

That sound reached through the haze of Marshall's anger. "What happened to you?" Suspicion colored his tone now.

Mary, having not meant to remind Marshall of this particular part of the night, tried to yank free, but succeeded in only hurting herself more. This time the pain brought tears to her eyes, which she quickly blinked away. A sharp intake of breath brought her eyes back to those of her partner. She could see that he too looked a little teary eyed. The anger was gone, replaced instead with fear and the beginnings of self loathing. He reached out with his other arm and took hold of her hand, moving his first hand down to her forearm. He pulled her forward, closer to him. He unbuttoned her blouse at the wrist and slowly rolled up her sleeve, his eyes locked not on her face, but on her arm.

When the vibrant colors were revealed, Marshall gasped. His eyes shot up to meet Mary's but she was looking away now, refusing to meet his stare, knowing what she'd find there. But Marshall was a stubborn man. He dropped her hand, still holding her forearm, and reached up to grasp her chin, turning her face to his. "What happened?" He saw the refusal in her eyes and his fear was confirmed. "Did I…did I do this to you?" He had trouble saying the words, had trouble believing he could ever hurt the woman before him.

Mary rushed to sooth the pain in his voice. "It wasn't your fault, Marshall. I'm fine. I'm the one to blame." She said the words quickly, hoping to keep him from running away this time.

But he dropped her arm and stepped away shaking his head back and forth in denial. Mary could see exactly what was happening, he was going back through what few memories he did have, refitting the story to align with this new information. Now, he knew she hadn't called those guys to take him out, rather to help her. He collapsed on one of the lawn chairs they usually used when stargazing. Mary quickly moved to sit beside him. When she reached out to soothe him though, he drew back. "Don't. What happened, Mare? I don't remember hurting you, don't remember doing that to you." He gestured to her arm. Then a darker fear passed over his face. "Oh God, I didn't do anything else to you, right? Please, tell me that's the worst of it."

There was a look of such desperation, that she rushed to answer him. "Marshall, I am fine. You were drunk, you didn't even mean to do this."

His voice was full of self-loathing. "But I did do it. I'm supposed to be the one who protects you from crap like this, not the one doing the damage. No wonder you left me with those goons."

Mary placed her hand on Marshall's arm, relieved when he didn't pull away. "First off, they weren't goons. They were just a couple of regulars who I'm friends with. They were just trying to make sure I was okay. And I didn't leave. Do you remember waking up on Saturday?"

Marshall sifted through his memories of the next morning. "I was in my bed, but I don't remember getting there."

Mary looked a bit sheepish. "That's cause David kind of had to knock you out. But Steve helped me get you home. I put you into your bed, I set out aspirin. I wasn't mad, Marshall, I was drunk. I didn't know what else to do."

"You did more than you probably should have. I guess that explains the radio silence all weekend. I didn't mean to frighten you, Mare. You know, you have to know, that I would never willingly hurt you." There was a desperation in his eyes.

She reached out and put a hand to his face. "That's not why I didn't call. I had some personal stuff to take care of on Saturday. And I spent all day yesterday with Gina Miller. She breached, I had to transfer her to Milwaukee."

He rubbed his eyes, and then caught her gaze. "Why didn't you call me for that?"

Mary rolled her eyes. "Because I know how much Gina grates on your nerves? And I didn't fancy watching her flirt with you all day. It was no big deal, Marshall. I'm a big girl. It's not like I've never made a transfer before." She tried her best to show some of her patented annoyance, but it was too soon on the tail of her worry for him.

But Marshall wasn't buying it. "If Friday night hadn't happened, would you have called me in?"

Deciding that upfront honesty was the best way to go, she answered, "Probably," she hastened to clarify that statement, "but it's not for the reasons you think."

Not willing to believe her, Marshall scoffed. "Are you saying something else happened on Friday that caused you to avoid me?"

This time, the irritation was real. "Let's get one thing straight, I was not avoiding you, okay. I was handling other stuff. If I had known you needed to be treated like a two year old and coddled, I would have taken the time to check up on you, but I was under the impression that you were an adult."

Her words, and the return of her natural anger, triggered Marshall's own, temporarily forgotten, anger. He stood up, starting to pace. "What exactly was so important that you couldn't take five minutes to call me, tell me what happened?"

She lashed back, pissed that Marshall was blaming her for not calling to explain everything. "I'm sorry, I was busy breaking off my engagement. Next time, though, I'll take the time to check on you first. Make sure you don't need a bottle or anything."

Once again, Marshall was speechless. It took a few moments before he was able to form a sentence. "You called off the wedding? Why?"

Mary huffed in exasperation. "Because I told you I loved you, because you said wanted to be with me? Because it's not fair to tie Raph to me when he and I both knew I wasn't a hundred percent dedicated to the relationship."

"I said what?" Marshall was floored. He'd been in love with his partner for years now, and he'd never said anything. How much liquor had he had Friday night?

Mary's voice softened as she relayed his words. "You said you were willing to give me forever."

Marshall mistook her gentle tone for fear. "I meant it, you know. But that doesn't mean you have to take me up on the offer, I'm not trying to force this on you."

"I know you meant it, why do you think I broke things off with Raph? How could I marry him knowing I loved you more?" Mary's voice was still soft, but she met his gaze now.

Marshall sat back down. "Then why did you run Friday night? Why not stay and have an actual conversation with me?"

Mary stood now, needing to use up her nervous energy. "We were drunk, Marshall. Did you really want anything to happen that way? Could you imagine how much worse it would have been to wake up next to me Saturday morning with no recollection of what happened? Do you really think I could have risked that?" _Do you think I could have taken any kind of rejection from you after that?_

She didn't voice the last question, but he heard it all the same, the fear and vulnerability in her voice. Looking at the whole picture again, from her point of view, it was easy to see that she had made the smartest, and safest, decision. "Still, Mare, a phone call…"

"I had to end things with Raphael before anything else happened. And as you can imagine neither he, nor my family took that well. I had planned to come over Sunday, but the situation here had me tied up pretty much all day. I couldn't focus on that and worry about us. I know I may not have handled it the best way possible, but I did my best, Marshall. If we're going to be anything, you're going to have to accept that. You have to realize that when it comes to my personal life, sometimes I have to make the decision that is safest for me, sometimes I need to process before I act."

Marshall considered her words, comparing them to her actions in the time he'd known her. He knew she was fiercely loyal, she did not cheat on the men she was with, he would have expected nothing less from her Friday night then a rejection had he had any of his wits about him. And he knew from experience that she often pushed her personal life to the back of her mind when her witnesses needed her- all WitSec inspectors did. And walking away from his drunk declarations was certainly a step taken to protect her heart, for which he could not blame her. Mary had seen too many people walk away from her after claiming to love her, she would do anything to avoid that heartbreak again. "I get it, I'm not blaming you for that. I just wish I could remember Friday, I wish I knew what happened."

Mary shook her head. "It's probably better if you don't. Let's just start again, pretend it never happened." His eyes flashed quickly to her arm, though the bruises were covered once again. She saw the look. "Stop it. There's nothing that can be done about that now. If it makes you feel any better, I did hit you on Friday, so it's not like you're alone in the regret department."

Her words triggered another memory. He felt her arms in his, the pressure hurting his own fingers. He felt her lips against his as he pulled her close, then her hands as she pushed against his chest. The face slap he received was the bare minimum of what damage she could have inflicted for his presumptions. "You had every right to hit me, I shouldn't have kissed you, not when you were still with Raph."

"Well none of that matters now. Raph and I are over, and everything else is past." She moved her hand to his cheek again, "Besides, I've waited a long time to share our first kiss, I'm not going to let Friday's be the one we remember." She leaned in and captured his lips, and he responded, equally as eager to replace the ugly memories from the weekend.


End file.
